


Be a Legend

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Comic Book Science, Dark Tony Stark, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Post-Thor (2011), Slow Burn, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, alien Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Instead of ending up in the clutches of the Mad Titan, Loki is rescued by the Merchant of Death.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 161





	Be a Legend

A deep cold had settled into his bones, which was unnerving and foreign to him. Loki can’t recall ever feeling cold in all his life, which makes sense given his true heritage. He supposes the only reason he’s feeling it now is because of how long he’s been lost in space.

Loki had let go and let himself fall. He remembers hearing his brother— _No, he’s not my brother anymore. He never was_ —cry out as he faded into nothingness. Then he just kept falling and falling and _falling_. He’s lost somewhere that not even Heimdall can see him. That is, if he’s even looking for him.

A numbness had crept over him and he couldn’t move. He hasn’t been able to move in a while. He can’t even open his eyes.

He’s lost in space and trapped within the darkness of his own mind.

No one is looking for him. Asgard was never really his home. His family was nothing but a lie. He almost wants to laugh at the irony. Lying to the God of Lies. Tricking the trickster. Isn’t that just hilarious?

And now Loki is alone and dying.

But wasn’t that the whole point? He let go and let himself fall, knowing and accepting his death. Perhaps he just expected it to be quicker with less time to think. He wanted to die and now he’s going to.

As his body slowly succumbs to the effects of space, Loki can’t decide if death is still what he wants. A part of him says yes, but another part of him is not so sure. Though, he supposes it’s a bit too late for regrets now.

There’s a pressure on his arm. At least, he thinks there is, just like he thinks he’s being pulled somewhere. Instinct tells him to fight back, but he knows he can’t. So he lets it happen, and he wonders of this is Death finally taking hold of him and leading him to the afterlife.

It’s the last thing he wonders before darkness truly claims him for itself.

* * *

Loki wakes up to pain.

It’s like thousands of needles piercing his skin over and over again. His body feels too cold and too hot all at once, like fire and ice coursing through his veins. He thrashes, crying out in agony.

Something touches him—hands to keep him down—and he hears a voice telling him to _stop_ and _calm down._ He hears them speaking, knows they are talking to him, but he can’t comprehend the words. Just as he knows that his eyes are open and yet he remains blind to the world around him.

He fights back against the hands, increasingly vicious as the pain seems to worsen. He reaches out with his seidr even though it feels like his blood is boiling and catches something—someone—and hot liquid spills out onto his fingers, coating his hands and dripping down his arms. It burns more than it probably should.

There’s a shout from somewhere near him, angry and annoyed. It’s not him though because he’s screaming in agony.

_It hurts it hurts it hurts—_

_Make it stop make it stop make it stop—_

Something cold and sharp presses into his neck, and his mind slips into nothingness.

* * *

Loki wakes up, head fuzzy and body heavy. His throat feels raw and dry and every breath sends a wave of pain through him.

He opens his eyes and draws in a hissing breath as the light stabs straight through his skull. Squeezing them shut again, he coughs violently and agony crashes over him. He tries to move, only to find that his arms and legs are tied down.

Panic courses through him and he struggles against the restraints, making the pain grow worse with each frantic movement. It feels like fire racing through his veins and Loki screams.

He hears hurried footsteps closing in on him, which only serves to make him panic more. He’s trapped and in absolute agony; he can’t escape. A hand wraps around his arm. It’s cold and it feels like metal which does nothing to ease his racing mind. He can’t make out the words being spoken to him because his mind and mouth are shouting:

_Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me—_

_Let me go let me go let me go—_

Loki somehow manages to free one of his arms and he blindly attacks. He’s not sure if he actually hits anything this time, but something—more cold metal—catches his arm and pins it back down to the table. He thrashes violently despite the stabbing pain coursing through his body. It’s like thousands of knives cutting into him over and over again.

He almost doesn’t notice the needle pressed into his neck before he finds himself relaxing. The fire recedes and his mind drifts away.

* * *

When Loki wakes up for the third time, his mind is still fuzzy and his body aches with each ragged breath. However, he feels more alert and aware of his surroundings. It’s easier to focus on things, even though it takes him a moment to get through the haze of pain.

He’s lying on a bed or cot of some kind, and he can feel the metal bars beneath the thin material. His wrists and ankles are securely strapped down with some sort of leather, not painful but uncomfortable all the same.

There’s a soft and low humming in the room; a sort of constant electricity present in the air. It briefly makes him think of Thor, though he quickly banishes that thought.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, giving himself time to adjust to the stale white light in the room. The ceiling is light gray, likely metal. He turns his head to the left, groaning from the effort, in order to scan more the room. It’s all metal. There’s various machines throughout the place, along with floating words and numbers. They’re blue in color, occasionally glitching, and it makes Loki think of magic.

Instinctively, he attempts to reach out and touch it, but is stopped by the restraints holding him down. He grunts in annoyance and tugs at the straps. The movement causes a stinging pain to travel up his arm and he sucks in a hissing breath.

 _“Glad to see you’re awake,”_ a voice says.

It startles him, and Loki coughs harshly, causing a wave of agony to crash over him like a tsunami. He screws his eyes shut and grinds his teeth together, focusing only on taking slow and deep breaths. It almost sounds like he’s gasping but he ignores that for now. He opens his eyes again when the pain finally subsides.

 _“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you,”_ the voice speaks again. _“How are you feeling?”_

Loki scans the room carefully, but he can’t find the source of whoever’s talking. He settles for staring up at the ceiling and asking, “Where am I?”

 _“You are currently residing in the medical bay of the ship,”_ the disembodied voice answers. _“I have alerted Sir of the situation. He will be here shortly.”_

Several more questions come to mind but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Sir?”

_“Yes.”_

Loki receives no other reply to his inquiry, and he gets the vague sense that he’s being ignored. He glares up at the ceiling, flipping through various insults before settling down and going over the multitude of questions of questions running through his head.

It’s not long before he hears footsteps headed his way. He turns his head to the right to see a man enter through the sliding glass door.

Loki is immediately drawn to his left arm; silver metal that cuts halfway into the scarred flesh of his bicep before travelling down to his hand. He can see the rolling joints of his elbow, wrist, and each individual finger.

“You like?”

The question comes from the man, his voice dripping with amusement. Loki’s eyes snap back up to his face just in time to see his smirk turn into a grin, revealing sharp pointed teeth.

The alien brings up his left arm and makes a show of spinning his hand around the wrist joint, chuckling at Loki’s wide-eyed stare. He lets his arm fall back down to rest at his side, turning and walking towards the floating blue symbols. As the man’s eyes narrow, reading over the words and numbers, Loki catches sight of another abnormality.

The bottom of the man’s shirt is bunched up at the back where Loki can see more silver metal, this time coming out from the scarred flesh of the alien’s lower back. It’s like a long continuation of his spine, each shining ligament visible and connected by the metal spinal cord.

He must have been caught staring again because the tail moves and now Loki can see a sharp, three-piece metal claw. It opens, spins, and snaps closed before lowering back down to the floor. Loki hears the man snicker quietly and his eyes travel back up, briefly lingering on the bandages wrapped around his right arm.

Frowning to himself he asks, “Who are you? Where am I?”

The alien stills, pausing in his task as he contemplates his answer. He turns, facing Loki and cocking his head his to the side. “Pretty sure JARVIS already told you that you’re in the medical bay of my ship.”

Loki glares, aware that his question about the man’s identity was ignored. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he says, crossing his arms. “And that’s only because I decided to save your frozen ass from dying out in the middle of space. In other words, I believe a _thank you_ is in order because _you’re welcome._ ”

“My apologies, but I don’t feel very inclined to thank someone when I’m tied down,” Loki bites back, expression fixed into a harsh scowl.

In any other circumstance, Loki could easily escape and take down the alien in front of him. However, considering that even just flexing his fingers a wave of stabbing up his arm that continues throughout the rest of his body, he doubts he’d even be able to walk.

Not to mention that his magic feels rather lacking. It’s there, just far away. It leaves him feeling more hallow than usual. He vaguely remembers calling upon it when the only thing he knew was agony and how much it burned to do so. There must be some sort suppressor involved here.

The alien narrows his eyes, but then the voice from earlier—JARVIS—speaks, _“You went into an extreme panic due to severe pain, which not only caused additional harm to yourself, but to Sir as well. The restraints are there to protect the both of you.”_

Loki recalls the feeling of hot liquid coating his hands and dripping down his arms. The memory itself is dark and empty in his mind, but the feeling of it is vivid on his skin.

He looks at the bandages on the man’s arm, now aware that he was the cause of such an injury. He wonders what exactly happened during that haze of darkness and agony. What kind of damage did he manage to inflict? The bandages look fresh and clean, no patches of blood in sight. He briefly wonders what color his blood might be.

The alien sighs and lets his arms fall. He reaches for floating numbers and brings them closer to his person. He looks at Loki, dark eyes now glinting with blue. “Can you describe your current pain level?”

“Medium to high,” Loki starts. He swallows and tries not to cough because his throat is still too dry. “It feels like… needles.”

It’s not much of an answer, barely even a description, but it feels sufficient enough. He’s not keen on revealing too much to a stranger. He doesn’t want to be seen as weak. It’s bad enough this creature saw him at his worst when he wasn’t even truly conscious of it.

The alien murmurs to himself as he touches the blue symbols, reading and flipping through the lines. Loki can hear the opening and closing of the metal claw. It’s a sharp sound and he hates how it unnerves him.

He watches the man shove the numbers aside and walk over to a cabinet, pulling out a small bottle of liquid and a syringe. When he flicks the needle Loki asks, “What’s that?”

“Medicine,” he says. “Well, it’s more like a numbing agent. Should help edge away some of the pain.”

“Only some?” Loki asks, quirking a brow. The alien smirks.

He walks over to Loki’s right side, syringe in hand, and gently presses down on his arm. Pain races across his body and Loki grinds his teeth together. He sucks in a short, hissing breath when the needle pierces his skin. But in a matter of moments, the heated agony is chased away by something cool and relaxing. He breathes out a sigh of relief and barely feels the needle leave his skin.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

Loki looks at him. He’s still focused on his arm, placing a small bandage on the spot where the needle pierced his skin. A tiny red dot rises to the surface when he steps aside and starts undoing the restraints. Loki waits until he’s done and moves back to the floating blue lines.

“Loki,” he answers, slowly sitting up. There’s a tingling sensation that travels across his body, but it’s not painful and quickly fades away. “My name is Loki.”

He almost says _Son of Odin_ out of habit but stops himself before he dares make that mistake. He’s no one’s son. Odin was never his father, and Laufey is nothing but a dead monster now.

“And you?” he asks instead. “What’s your name?”

The alien pauses, his fingers hovering over the symbols. He flicks them away before turning around to face Loki. A smirk words its way onto his face as he says, “You can call me Tony.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
